HelloAngel
ONE love, blood, life
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By Maggie Gerrity
2006.02
OK, I'll admit it, I was giving U2 one last chance. "All That You Can't Leave Behind" simply hadn't interested me. Sure, I could pop "Achtung Baby" or "The Joshua Tree" into my CD player any afternoon and remember what U2 had once meant to me when I was 13, 17, 20, but I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I'd simply outgrown the band.
The first time I heard "Vertigo," though, I knew I'd been wrong. The song reached out and grabbed me as if I was 13 again and listening in stunned silence to my cassette copy of "Achtung Baby." I quickly purchased "Vertigo" from iTunes and played it over and over, counting the days until I could hear the rest of U2's new album.
I know now that I surely wasn't the only one eagerly awaiting the release of "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb." In the 14 months since its debut, the album has sold over 9 million copies worldwide, with singles topping the charts everywhere from India to Latvia. Next Wednesday, the band is competing in five categories at the Grammy Awards, hoping to add more gramophone statues to the pair it won last year for "Vertigo." "Bomb" received nods for Album of the Year and Best Rock Album; "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own" is competing for Song of the Year and Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals; and "City of Blinding Lights" is vying for Best Rock Song.
This album, quite simply, is U2 at its best. The click of Larry Mullen Jr.'s drumsticks starts the album and he thunders through "Vertigo," "Love and Peace or Else," and "All Because of You." Edge's guitar encases Bono's quiet, reflective lyrics in "Miracle Drug" and "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own," then soars on "City of Blinding Lights." Adam Clayton's bass line anchors "A Man and a Woman," the rhythm settling in my hips every time I hear it, making me shake them without even realizing (something I have to think that sly silver fox intended).
No U2 album since "Achtung Baby" displays the continuity that "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" does. It's an album I've played in its entirety again and again over the last year, and I haven't grown tired of it. The songs fit together like the chapters of a novel, the colors of a painting. On "Vertigo," Bono desperately searches for something he can feel but by "Yahweh," he's found peace. No matter what the topic, in each song Bono urges listeners to search for some sort of beauty or hope in our far from perfect world, because it's all we have. This is a recurring theme in U2's songs—from the devotion of "I Will Follow" to glitz of "Discotheque"—but here the lyrics feel more grounded, the music more polished. I believe this is the album the band has been working toward for its entire career and the strength of both the lyrics and the music make it clear that U2 is at the pinnacle of its career and will only continue to get better.
Fans couldn't wait to hear the songs on "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" performed live. Many members of U2.com snatched up tickets in the fan club-only presale, while others battled scalpers to get highly-coveted general admission tickets or more expensive seats. More than 3 million people in the United States and Europe attended 118 sold-out shows on the tour's first three legs, netting the band $260 million and honors as Billboard's top-grossing tour of 2005. The fourth leg kicks off February 12th in Monterrey, Mexico, as the band takes Vertigo through South America, Australia, New Zealand, and Japan—places U2 hasn't visited since PopMart—before closing in Honolulu on April 8th.
By the time I traveled with a friend to Philadelphia last May for my first Vertigo show, I already had tickets for three more shows in the fall. I'd saved up all the money I could and even taught an extra class so that I could afford to see U2 as many times as my schedule would allow. Prior to this tour, I'd gotten to see the band just once on the PopMart tour and U2'd been so far away from my nosebleed seat that it could've been anyone on that stage. This time, though, I had GAs and even though my friend and I didn't make it into the ellipse, we were in the second row from the rail outside, closer to the band than I ever thought I'd get to be.
I cheered as loudly as I could as they took the stage to the opening chords of "City of Blinding Lights." I'd heard recordings from earlier dates on the tour, but I still didn't know what to expect with the show happening right in front of me. Only when my friend elbowed me did I see Bono standing at the tip of the ellipse, arms raised jubilantly as the red and white confetti rained down on the crowd. I'm 26 years old but I'll admit I screamed then as if I were 18 again, up in my nosebleed seats at my first U2 concert.
I never made it into the ellipse, even though I had GA tickets for two other shows. I never got to meet the band, and Bono never pulled me up on stage. I spent more money on U2 in 2005 than a grad student should spend on anything other than grad school but I don't question for a moment whether I'd do it again. Even late in the tour, when bad weather affected the band's travel schedule and Bono and Larry were fighting off colds, U2 still performed at its best, the guys smiling and having fun as they tore through new songs and dusted-off long-ago favorites like "The Electric Co." and "Gloria."
Even though I still love "Vertigo," other songs from "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" have taken on more importance for me over the past year. After Hurricane Katrina, as I stared helplessly at the news, I found a new meaning in "Crumbs From Your Table." The song voiced so much of my distress about what the hurricane had done to the lives of so many in New Orleans. The recent release of "Original of the Species" as a single has made me listen to it more closely. I can be shy sometimes and I love the encouragement Bono gives throughout the song for each of us to be proud of who we are. It's as heartfelt of a song as the band has ever played and one I believe will remain in the set list for future tours. Most of all, though, "City of Blinding Lights" has become one of my favorite U2 songs. It lifts me every time I hear it, in large part because I remember my elation during the live versions of it I heard last year.
In the months since I first eased that red and black disc from its case, I've shouted "Oh—you—look—so—beautiful—tonight!" with 20,000 other people. I've seen the tears build in Bono's eyes as he sang "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own" thinking of the song's inspiration, his father, Bob. I've gone back to U2 albums I hadn't listened to in a long time (yes, even "All That You Can't Leave Behind") and have fallen in love with them again. Most importantly, I've found my way back to U2, and in the year since the release of "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb," these 11 songs have made me wonder why I ever strayed.
By Maggie Gerrity
2006.02
OK, I'll admit it, I was giving U2 one last chance. "All That You Can't Leave Behind" simply hadn't interested me. Sure, I could pop "Achtung Baby" or "The Joshua Tree" into my CD player any afternoon and remember what U2 had once meant to me when I was 13, 17, 20, but I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I'd simply outgrown the band.
The first time I heard "Vertigo," though, I knew I'd been wrong. The song reached out and grabbed me as if I was 13 again and listening in stunned silence to my cassette copy of "Achtung Baby." I quickly purchased "Vertigo" from iTunes and played it over and over, counting the days until I could hear the rest of U2's new album.
I know now that I surely wasn't the only one eagerly awaiting the release of "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb." In the 14 months since its debut, the album has sold over 9 million copies worldwide, with singles topping the charts everywhere from India to Latvia. Next Wednesday, the band is competing in five categories at the Grammy Awards, hoping to add more gramophone statues to the pair it won last year for "Vertigo." "Bomb" received nods for Album of the Year and Best Rock Album; "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own" is competing for Song of the Year and Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals; and "City of Blinding Lights" is vying for Best Rock Song.
This album, quite simply, is U2 at its best. The click of Larry Mullen Jr.'s drumsticks starts the album and he thunders through "Vertigo," "Love and Peace or Else," and "All Because of You." Edge's guitar encases Bono's quiet, reflective lyrics in "Miracle Drug" and "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own," then soars on "City of Blinding Lights." Adam Clayton's bass line anchors "A Man and a Woman," the rhythm settling in my hips every time I hear it, making me shake them without even realizing (something I have to think that sly silver fox intended).
No U2 album since "Achtung Baby" displays the continuity that "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" does. It's an album I've played in its entirety again and again over the last year, and I haven't grown tired of it. The songs fit together like the chapters of a novel, the colors of a painting. On "Vertigo," Bono desperately searches for something he can feel but by "Yahweh," he's found peace. No matter what the topic, in each song Bono urges listeners to search for some sort of beauty or hope in our far from perfect world, because it's all we have. This is a recurring theme in U2's songs—from the devotion of "I Will Follow" to glitz of "Discotheque"—but here the lyrics feel more grounded, the music more polished. I believe this is the album the band has been working toward for its entire career and the strength of both the lyrics and the music make it clear that U2 is at the pinnacle of its career and will only continue to get better.
Fans couldn't wait to hear the songs on "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" performed live. Many members of U2.com snatched up tickets in the fan club-only presale, while others battled scalpers to get highly-coveted general admission tickets or more expensive seats. More than 3 million people in the United States and Europe attended 118 sold-out shows on the tour's first three legs, netting the band $260 million and honors as Billboard's top-grossing tour of 2005. The fourth leg kicks off February 12th in Monterrey, Mexico, as the band takes Vertigo through South America, Australia, New Zealand, and Japan—places U2 hasn't visited since PopMart—before closing in Honolulu on April 8th.
By the time I traveled with a friend to Philadelphia last May for my first Vertigo show, I already had tickets for three more shows in the fall. I'd saved up all the money I could and even taught an extra class so that I could afford to see U2 as many times as my schedule would allow. Prior to this tour, I'd gotten to see the band just once on the PopMart tour and U2'd been so far away from my nosebleed seat that it could've been anyone on that stage. This time, though, I had GAs and even though my friend and I didn't make it into the ellipse, we were in the second row from the rail outside, closer to the band than I ever thought I'd get to be.
I cheered as loudly as I could as they took the stage to the opening chords of "City of Blinding Lights." I'd heard recordings from earlier dates on the tour, but I still didn't know what to expect with the show happening right in front of me. Only when my friend elbowed me did I see Bono standing at the tip of the ellipse, arms raised jubilantly as the red and white confetti rained down on the crowd. I'm 26 years old but I'll admit I screamed then as if I were 18 again, up in my nosebleed seats at my first U2 concert.
I never made it into the ellipse, even though I had GA tickets for two other shows. I never got to meet the band, and Bono never pulled me up on stage. I spent more money on U2 in 2005 than a grad student should spend on anything other than grad school but I don't question for a moment whether I'd do it again. Even late in the tour, when bad weather affected the band's travel schedule and Bono and Larry were fighting off colds, U2 still performed at its best, the guys smiling and having fun as they tore through new songs and dusted-off long-ago favorites like "The Electric Co." and "Gloria."
Even though I still love "Vertigo," other songs from "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" have taken on more importance for me over the past year. After Hurricane Katrina, as I stared helplessly at the news, I found a new meaning in "Crumbs From Your Table." The song voiced so much of my distress about what the hurricane had done to the lives of so many in New Orleans. The recent release of "Original of the Species" as a single has made me listen to it more closely. I can be shy sometimes and I love the encouragement Bono gives throughout the song for each of us to be proud of who we are. It's as heartfelt of a song as the band has ever played and one I believe will remain in the set list for future tours. Most of all, though, "City of Blinding Lights" has become one of my favorite U2 songs. It lifts me every time I hear it, in large part because I remember my elation during the live versions of it I heard last year.
In the months since I first eased that red and black disc from its case, I've shouted "Oh—you—look—so—beautiful—tonight!" with 20,000 other people. I've seen the tears build in Bono's eyes as he sang "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own" thinking of the song's inspiration, his father, Bob. I've gone back to U2 albums I hadn't listened to in a long time (yes, even "All That You Can't Leave Behind") and have fallen in love with them again. Most importantly, I've found my way back to U2, and in the year since the release of "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb," these 11 songs have made me wonder why I ever strayed.
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Fantastic album, wonderful
The way both albums have grown on me in almost the identical manner is scary cool. 
